Page 34 - Fourth Wing

howl of wind that rips at my secured braid.

“Sorrengail?” He steps toward me, and I look up…and up.
Good gods, I don’t even reach his collarbone. He’s massive. He has to be

more than four inches over six feet tall.

I feel exactly what Mira called me—fragile—but I nod once, and the
shining onyx of his eyes transforms to cold, unadulterated hatred. I can

almost taste the loathing wafting off him like a bitter cologne.

“Violet?” Rhiannon asks, moving forward.
“You’re General Sorrengail’s youngest.” His voice is deep and

accusatory.

“You’re Fen Riorson’s son,” I counter, the certainty of this revelation
settling in my bones. I lift my chin and do my best to lock every muscle in

my body so I don’t start trembling.
He will kill you the second he finds out who you are. Mira’s words

bounce around my skull, and fear knots in my throat. He’s going to throw

me over the edge. He’s going to pick me up and drop me right off this
turret. I’m never going to get the chance to even walk the parapet. I’ll die

being exactly what my mother’s always danced around calling me—weak.
Xaden sucks in a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw flexes once.

Twice. “Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution.”

Wait. Like he has the only right to hatred here? Rage races through my
veins. “Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.”

“Hardly.” His glaring gaze strokes over me like he’s memorizing every

detail or looking for any weakness. “Your sister is a rider. Guess that
explains the leathers.”

“Guess so.” I hold his glare, as if winning this staring competition will

gain me entrance to the quadrant instead of crossing the parapet behind him.
Either way, I’m getting across. Mira isn’t going to lose both her siblings.

His hands clench into fists, and he tenses.
I prepare for the strike. He might throw me off this tower, but I won’t